31/12/2010

A few hours left. A few hours left until the new year. How do I feel? I woke up early and buzzing with thoughts... I love it when that happens because I'm not talking about any sort of buzzing thoughts... It's when I can feel a deep thread of reasoning is about to emerge clear as daylight for me to then take the time to translate into words.

It's hard to explain... In my head, I understand things in such deep and intricate ways, mainly because my mind is able to handle a LOT of factors all at once... But the difficulty was always that I'm often unable to sit down and write in a way that will lay out the reasoning including all the factors my mind is able to take into account at once. I think that's because when you try to express thoughts, you can only write or speak one idea at a time - the reasoning process needs to be broken down in steps to lead to the conclusion. Within the mind, all these steps are processed simultanuously. Well, in my mind it seems to be the case.

So I really need to sit down and start the process of expressing each factor my mind is able to take into account, each of them leading the way to the conclusion I reach... something like that. It's the only way to... finally express a perfected theory that showcases exactly the very high number of factors my mind took into consideration when coming to certain conclusion. The only way to express in depth my visions and understanding, and if I can do just that (just!) then I can already sense it would make it very hard to find any flaw in it. Why? Because I will have thought of all the possible factors and arguments possible against each and every single thing I express.

I tried to go to sleep at an earlier time last night... But I couldn't sleep. I stared at the white ceiling for some time, and then it got me thinking about things.

Society is very clever in the way it imprisons us. It will encourage even the best of us to follow our passions and dreams within its mainstream settings, so that in effect, we never see in time that we're being sucked into the vicious circle of having to slave away (work) for a living - rarely earning or saving enough to break free to actually pursue in depth the core of our passions in life, or to break free from the machine itself. Why rarely earning or saving enough to break free? Because we end up addicted or caught up in a certain lifestyle or other that rests on us spending all the time so that this society can keep existing in all its flaws...

If only society wasn't so cunning at tricking us in such a way, we would see that the key always was to select the work that pays the most with the aim to save enough to one day be able to break free to focus on our true passions and dreams.

30/12/2010

One day left. One day left until the new year. How do I feel? rather empty and dejected.

I can't keep doing what I've been doing... I spent too much time delving into the chaotic world of the internet. I learned a few things about how easy it is to be deceived by appearances, or coincidences, for instance. I suspect I learned much more than I can say now. But like all experiences, there is time to say enough is enough, it went as far as it could go and it's time to... move on.

Move on... These words are often used in all sorts of situation when something comes to an end, or if things are going wrong.

A new year is dawning, and I don't want to be stuck doing what I've been doing for the past few months.

I know that in my mind and heart, there was always something specific I was searching for, and that every time I spoke to someone online, I was allowing my imagination to trick me into believing that there was something more to the person, that the person would somehow turn out to be the one I was looking for... But it was never the case, and how could it ever be?

Dejected and lost as I feel now, I've been playing with the Tarot cards my friend got me for Christmas... It gave me something to do, I guess... I shuffled the cards and then turned the first few ones on top of the stack to see what they would supposedly reveal. A Queen of Swords showed up, together with justice and temperance, alongside another card that means reduced strengths, and those were supposed to tell me about me and my present situation. The hanged man showed up for my fears and hopes... and then for the outcome or things to come the King of Cups appeared.

I looked at the cards, shook my head, and shuffled all the cards again to draw new ones. The Queen of Pentacles showed up this time, along side... Justice and Temperance - again. The outcome? King of Cups.

I gathered all the cards back together and put them back in a drawer. Whatever, you know... you can always make your own meaning of things fit with such things. Just like horoscope and other things. What these things can never do is tell you "Aliska, this is exactly what your problem is (gives concrete example of your problem) and this is what you ought to be doing (tells you exactly what you should be doing from A to Z)..."

Harmless indulgence, I suppose.

I bought my new paints, I have my new camera... It's time to delve back into my mind and regain som perspective and inner strength.

I know my heart will never feel the same again... I can never forget what it was I felt and that I'm still feeling. Someone said to me last night that I lack faith in what I feel so strongly... perhaps that person is right. I do need more faith in my life, and by that I don't mean religious faith, I mean the true meaning, the absolute one of Belief... Faith.

Faith in oneself, faith in life, faith in better things to come knowing that there is always a challenge to be overcome because it's part of the path... that of being human.

If you asked me what happened during these past few months, the truth is that I wouldn't know what to say. One would have to possess the ability to dive into my very heart and see for themselves. No word could ever be enough.

No word.

29/12/2010

Two days left. Two days left before the new year. Yet another year. I feel it already. Another year.

But maybe it already was? if we could detach ourselves from the detail of living, the tiny ants that we are on the surface of this Earth... Maybe we would see that time is all times at once, that past is as much present as it is about to unfold... Maybe.

Time is linked to gravity. Somehow. I can't prove it. I don't care, I can feel it.

If I close my eyes, I can see that little house in the middle of nowhere, where there is no I, or you... And when I knock on the door, someone opens it slowly, like in the movies, but I can never see the face.

Looking up at the night skies, black as ink and unfathomable in their deep darkness... Thinking about the boy and his fox... About wheat fields and the shining gold of a lost sun... about how quiet the night always is, and when the world is finally asleep, there is nothing but my own heartbeat to hear.

Nothing to say... nothing to think... Nothing that feels like it matters in any way.

Alone stands for:

- Alinenated

- Lonely

- Otherwordly

- Endings

Why not?

I'm just like the fox in the story. That's exactly why I felt like crying when I first read that passage all these many years ago...

"But if you tame me, it'll be as if the sun came to shine on my life.
I shall know the sound of a step that'll be different from all the others.
Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground.
Yours will call me, like music out of my burrow.
And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder?
I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me.
The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad.
But you have hair that is the color of gold.
Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me!
The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you.
And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…" "

Except there was never any Little Prince to be my true friend. And I don't care to be reminded that 'you never know what will happen tomorrow', that everything could change... I dont care!
Some things don't change because the world is made to work in a certain way and... and...

26/12/2010

Another year has almost come and gone... In-between just a blur of actions, thoughts, dreams, sighs, aspirations and occurrences...

I walked into the kitchen this morning to make myself a cup of coffee, and my mother had left the radio on while she went back to watch the TV. A deep French speaking voice was reading the story of the Little Prince, and I recognised the story at once because I happened to catch the exact part when the Little Prince meets the fox... I never read the whole little book, except a few chapters, and I never forgot this one. So... I found myself sitting down at the table to listen to that chapter being told to me again after so many years.

It was then that the fox appeared. "Good morning" said the fox."Good morning" the little prince responded politely although when he turned around he saw nothing.

"I'm right here" the voice said, "under the apple tree."

"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You're very pretty to look at."

"I'm a fox", the fox said.

"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince, "I'm so unhappy."

"I can't play with you," the fox said, "I'm not tamed."

"Ah! Please excuse me,"said the little prince.
But after some thought, he added: "What does that mean—'tame'?"

"You do not live here," said the fox, "What is it you're looking for?"

"I'm looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean—tame?"

"Men,"said the fox, "they've guns, and they hunt. It's very disturbing.
They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"

"No," said the little prince. "I'm looking for friends. What does that mean—tame?"

"It's an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."

"To establish ties?"

"Just that," said the fox. "to me, you're still nothing more than a little boy
who's just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you.
And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I'm nothing more than a fox
like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other.
To me, you'll be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world …"

"I'm beginning to understand," said the little prince.
"There's a flower. . .I think she has tamed me…"

"It is possible," said the fox. "On earth one sees all sorts of things."

"Oh but this is not on the earth!" said the little prince.

The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"

"Yes"

"Are there hunters on that planet?"

"No"

"Ah that's interesting! Are there chickens?"

"No"

"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life's very monotonous," he said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me.
All chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike.
And in consequence, I am a little bored.
But if you tame me, it'll be as if the sun came to shine on my life.
I shall know the sound of a step that'll be different from all the others.
Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground.
Yours will call me, like music out of my burrow.
And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder?
I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me.
The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad.
But you have hair that is the color of gold.
Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me!
The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you.
And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…"

The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
"Please—tame me!" he said.

"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I've not much time.
I've friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."

"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox.
"Men have no more time to understand anything.
They buy things all ready made at the shops.
But there's no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship,
and so men have no friends any more.
If you want a friend, tame me…"

"What must I do, to tame you? asked the little prince.

"You must be very patient," replied the fox.
First you'll sit down at a little distance from me – like that – in the grass.
I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing.
Words are the source of misunderstandings.
But you'll sit a little closer to me, every day…"

The next day the little prince came back.

"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox.
"If for example, you came at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock
I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances.
At four o'clock, I shall be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am!
But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour
my heart is ready to greet you… One must observe the proper rites…"

"What's a rite?" asked the little prince.

"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox.
"they're what make one day different from other days, one hour different from other hours.
There's a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they danse with the village girls.
So Thursday's a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards.
But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day,
and I should never have any vacation at all."

So the little prince tamed the fox.
And when the hour of his departure drew near—

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

"It's your own fault," said the little prince.
"I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…"

"Yes that is so", said the fox.

"But now you're going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes that is so" said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields."
And then he added: "go and look again at the roses.
You'll understand now that yours is unique in all the world.
Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You're not at all like my rose," he said.
"As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one.
You're like my fox when I first knew him.
He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But I have made a friend, and now he's unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You're beautiful, but you're empty," he went on. "One could not die for you.
To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you
–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she's more important
than all the hundreds of you other roses:
because it is she that I have watered;
because it is she that I have put under the glass globe;
because it is for her that I've killed the caterpillars
(except the two or three we saved to become butterflies);
because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled,
or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is MY rose."

And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye" he said.

"Goodbye," said the fox.
"And now here's my secret, a very simple secret:
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;
what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"What is essential is invisible to the eye,"
the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have wasted for my rose–"
said the little prince so he would be sure to remember.

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it.
You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.
You are responsible for your rose…"

"I am responsible for my rose,"
the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

From "The Little Prince" by Antoine de St. Exupery.

21/12/2010

I'm having a hard time translating any thought I may have into words these days... It seems to happen when too many different thoughts are clashing inside my head. This clash leads to a temporary inability to express any thought whatsoever.

I was saving some old documents in a different format this afternoon, right before I went outside and realised that the snow was turning into horrendous mud everywhere (that's the part I don't like about snow in the city... when it starts melting and turns into sludge). These documents were old diary entries from as far back as 2006, when I actually began to write my thoughts on screen rather than on loose pages.

I always seemed to like to give a main title to each diary, so the one that started in 2006 was called 'Diary of a Hopeless Mind', and it gave a fleeting account of my worst woes with depression, I suppose. But the worst of it was never even written down, or only briefly on paper ('LET ME DIE' etc). That first on-screen diary spanned a period of around 2 years, and I suppose it was during that time that I got into the habit of writing my thoughts down more and more often - to the point I reached where I now do it almost every single day. Contrary to what people expect from a diary form of writing, I never liked writing about the daily trivialities of my reality; instead, I naturally prefered dwelling on the deeper thoughts that came to mind, often starting from one trivial point and delving into its bigger significance. I never really had a reader in mind, not even an imaginary one... It was always between my person and my mind, diving into the endless realm of possibilities and mysteries of life in all its aspects.

That first on-screen diary starts with a clear reminder of how fucked-up I was at the time, in the full grip of an eating disorder that started with the flawed ideal of killing the body to free the mind. I hated everything about society and life, nothing made sense and I was lost in what felt like nothing more than constant chaos no matter where I looked. Of course, the downside of weakening your body is that eventually your mind will be paralysed and caught in very distorted visions. But... flirting with madness was something I always felt I needed to do, and the eating disorder allowed me a unique glimpse into the core of what madness means in reality... Always flirting with that notion of madness, so that in effect, I could remain with the flexibility to still be 'sane' - which really means, the ability to drag myself out of the realm of madness whenever my mind felt the need to do so.

Between the age of 19 and 24 I was made to go and see so many health experts, so-called psychologists and shrinks... I was interested, of course. I loved the excuse to express my strange mind to people who were supposed to understand so much about the human psyche. What I would not have given just to see what they would write in their files about me... I was so curious.
Then I realised that they were all idiots with limited minds that needed to follow rules from books to tell you what your problem is... So I dropped out and no one was able to force me back where I only saw a pure waste of time. None of them could give me insight into my own workings, therefore I began to delve into my mind myself, and that's when I actually made my way back to sanity.

That first on-screen diary that spanned two years of my life ended just as I was about to get kicked out of university because I could not longer afford the tuition fees... So I had no choice but to differ my final year for the following year. Just as I was starting to finally emerge from my deep sense of depression and alienation, this had to happen. It made me so angry this time, that instead of falling to pieces it became the crutial factor that allowed me to snap out of it for good.
I woke up one morning, looking around me in horror... everything suddenly looked clearer than it ever had since I was born. That's when I started my second diary, called 'Dive Into the Void', and from then on, there was no looking back. I began to write about my thoughts on a daily basis (almost), and pages were filled so quickly that in the space of perhaps 3 months, it was time to start another one... called 'Adrift'.

By the beginning of 2009, Adrift ended and Equinox began... The word equinox came to mind as I stared at the blank page on screen... I was waiting for the right title to come to me, and when that word came, I was rather perplexed. Equinox means that day and night are the same length exactly.



Well... That diary proved one that chartered some of my worst moments in life, that's for sure. In retrospect, that period of time really was about experiencing as much darkness as moments of light. And then... by summer, I decided that my next diary would have no title, and I even told myself that I would stop delving into deep thought... I guess my mind had other ideas. Less than 3 months later, it was time for yet another diary of thoughts, this time entitled "The Other Side", and focused on my new-found interest in all things Godly. I was looking for signs, I suppose, and flirting with a lot of theories that took into consideration the possibility of a higher power that stands far out of our reach and beyond...

I took another look at Christianity, the faith I happened to be born into although without ever having to follow it in any way. I began to read the Bible, to see if some answers to my millions of questions about true meaning and life could be found there. My mind took a keen interest in all the things that allowed for deeper reflection on certain notions, and only remembered what seemed to make sense, or what seemed to add to its many possible theories. My disgust at RELIGION itself never waned, though. If anything, I have never been more convinced that the way men 'follow' a certain religion or other is flawed to the core and religion itself becomes a flawed reflection of people seeking easy ways not to have to find answers for themselves.

'Just follow the routine... Go to church, pray xxx number of times a day... You'll be fine then.'

'So what if a tradition makes no sense? It's not your place to question it. Just repeat the same nonsense like everyone else.'

People would laugh if I told them that I only saw the hidden depth and beauty of the notion of a God when I read the last book from the Narnia series... The thing is, I had been looking for the first one in the series for ages because I wanted more examples of battle writing in books (for my own 'book' I was writing), but I could never find it, till one day I saw the last one in the series on sale for 20 pence outside the library. It looked so much like a book for babies... but it was 20 pence! I thought, what the heck, I'll just buy it even if I never read it.

Still looking into the hidden depths and possible wisdoms of sacred books, I started another diary called "Pater Sangini", which coincided with my return to university for my final year of studies. A lot of my observations now had to do with people and social interaction in general. By February of this year, it was time for "Chasing Ghosts", and let's just say that when that title naturally came to mind, I didn't like the sound of it AT ALL. And what do you know, coincidences have a way to kick you in the teeth when you least expect it... during that period, not only did my mother's family come back in my life, but I also found my long-lost father on facebook... Ha-ha.

Since that diary was getting so long, I decided to create a new one, called "Shooting Stars", which pretty much covered all my thoughts - as usual, from most basic to the deepest - during last summer... And now the current one in which I add my thoughts almost daily, called "Beyond the Void."

So I was saving all these files and the same urge as always came back, that of deleting everything at once. But before I do just that, I need to gather the few good thoughts lost in all these worthless pages of thoughts...

More and more I feel like it's time to move on from simply indulging in deep thought... Since my mind is going in circles around the same notions, I keep feeling as though it's almost time to expend my mind's horizons, either to include more factors to dwell on, or to deepen my current deeper understanding of absolutely everything under this sun. I guess that's why I haven't been updating my other blog much.

One thing I do know, though... I truly am an alchemist of the mind. And I'm strong enough to follow the path that leads to true enlightenment... And I really don't care what anybody thinks, because I know my visions/understanding are at least righter than wrong.

I couldn't sleep last night. Someone could have cut the atmosphere in the house with a knife... I was lying in bed, staring mostly at the white ceiling, thinking how alone we always all are, no matter how many people happen to surround us. I thought that it was quite true: we are always alone in our own head, and nothing can change that. It then becomes a question of how much we like to live with our own selves, and sadly I don't think a lot of people like their selves at all. In fact, I suspect that many cannot even bear the thought of spending time alone with their self... so they grow afraid of being left alone, because being alone means having no choice but to face your own mind, your own self.

So they seek to be in the company of others constantly, just so they can ignore their own selves. They hang onto the company of others and busy themselves with as many things as they can so the void within can be at least numbed, or forgotten... even though it is still there.

It's all an illusion of course, for no matter how many surround us, we are all ultimately alone, and the only way to actually start appreciating the company of others is by starting to appreciate our own. This illusion so many people strive to bury themselves in (that of ignoring their own selves and never be alone for too long) reminds me of one I used to have when I was younger and still frightened to spend the night alone in an empty house. To give myself the illusion of a human presence, I would leave the TV or the radio on, so voices would fill the room, and suddenly I was no longer so afraid of whatever monster or ghost that might be about to get me ( I have way too much imagination, and sometimes it works against me).

Last night I realised that I had no one I could turn to just to rest my head on their shoulder when I needed it the most. I patted myself on the shoulder, yes I did, and you know what? My own self cheered me up. Yes I am alone, yes I have no one to turn to... but I have myself, and in that sense I can never be lonely.

But... We are social animals, after all. Some things in life are needed just to keep in balance as far as life is concerned. I sighed to myself and finally drifted to sleep.

I woke up before dawn, amazingly enough, and just enjoyed watching the sky slowly light up from its shroud of dull darkness. As I walked into the kitchen, I met my uncle there. He looked terrible. My mother had tried pleading with him one last time the night before, but he was adamant that he wanted to leave, and then he insulted her, and then she told him to get lost. He began to give me his own version of what the whole argument was about, and since I barely understand his language, all I could do was nod and smile. Previously, I had been made to listen to my mother's version, and now I guess I had to listen to his.

I smiled and nodded for a good 20 minutes as he went on and on, but I did understand the times when he was actually insulting my mother as he explained his story to me. Still, I listened and nodded. Then he gazed at me and said something like: "But you sweetheart, you are great. I love you." And that's when he hugged me.

Yeah... And that made me wondered how different his view of me would have been if I had known how to speak his language. Surely there would have been no way for me to avoid being dragged into their arguments.

And then I was reminded of that stranger paradox again. Aren't we more likely to always hurt the ones we know, perhaps even the ones we like, more than a mere stranger in the street? I was always fascinated to watch people arguing in public places, and while they give one another the darkest of looks if not worse, they never forget to politely - and often with the sweetest of smiles - open the shop door for you, the stranger.

Here, I play of course the role of the 'stranger' to an extent. I stand aside, neutral, and in the end in the best position of the story.

One thing my uncle added once his rant was over was to tell me something about how I had eyes inside me. I had no idea what he was on about so I asked him what he meant maybe three times, and that's when he pointed at his eyes, and then at his chest: 'you have eyes in there, too.'

I wished I could have told him that he had them too, he just needed to find the strength to seek them, and then keep them wide open.

03/12/2010

I find trees most fascinating... I think of them as silent guardians, or witnesses, of this world, and perhaps in that sense they remind me of my own self - I feel a connection.
Not so long ago I began reading on legends and folklore about trees and plants, I even began learning how to diferenciate between types of vegetation... but I discovered it wasn't so easy a task. Still, a fascinating and soothing task for my mind.

My mother told me once that I had always had a fascination for trees, and hands, actually. I don't remember gazing up at tree branches for hours on end, but I do remember that as a tiny child I used to play with my hands a lot. Each hand was a family, and both hands represented feuding families or clans. Each finger became a character, and always in the story one finger from each hand would fall in love with the opposite one, leading all the others to fight in a bid to separate them. I remember playing like that when I was bored, or had no toys around to play with. To this day, if I focus on my hands, I can still see them as 'characters' the way I saw them when I was little.

I get sad often because in my head I see what life could have been like - how peaceful and full of wondrous beauty in the simplicity - and it clashes with the reality that others have shaped for me, and the rest of us. I’m so beside everything else and every point in life that I keep questioning why the heck I’m here at all. I’m a glitch of human nature, a loose vector floating along the spectrum of Time in a sea of mostly predictable vectors (that would be you people). I also don’t like this reality because the world in my head is better, full of contrasts and colours, and my world within is always striving to better itself. It is a mixture of fantasy and reason stretching to infinity. Reality roots my body in place with invisible shakles. My eyes are like a window for my imprisonned mind to look out at a tiny piece of the world with no hope to ever be set free while the body (materiality) prevails in this realm.

I’m not interested in a lot of things, and I have very, very few ‘passions’ - yet I am open to everything. I don’t care about much, and I’m hard to rope into a trend, or a wordly obsession, because everything that man creates is pretty much part of a delusion, or a mere illusion. Everything created apart from art is created either to complicate what needn’t be, or to confuse the mind. I skip that part and like to look beyond the veil. So I don’t fit anywhere because I just don’t buy into our reality as it was shaped for us.

Sometimes I wish I could erase the body and only live through the mind... but that's pointless, I know. It's like saying you want to set sail without an actual boat to carry you on your journey.
Maybe it's all about the lack of love in the end.

01/12/2010

Such a cold first day of December... Where I live it isn't that bad, mind you; there is barely any snow on the ground, that's for sure. It's just the icy gusts of wind... These feel like they could freeze your face if you stay out for too long.

I woke up early today, and spent some time sorting out my mess of papers and notebooks I'd thrown in a pile on a shelf. I came across old CDs that looked badly damaged by lack of care. Still, I recognised them and wondered if they could still be played - and they could. These were pirate CDs they used to sell for a few quids on that huge black market in Warsaw. Of course the trick was that when you bought one of those you could never be sure they would actually be working, or even if the songs that were supposed to be on them were really there.

I remember the very first time I ventured into that market. One girl from the school I had just started attending had asked me to come along with her because she wanted to buy some make-up and other cheap trinkets. I followed her there, wide-eyed and curious, looking around me at the hundreds of stalls everywhere, many of them filled with all sorts of junk. At some point we walked past a stall (well, it wasn't a stall, just a couple of guys standing with their gear lying on a blanket) displaying a gun with its silencer for sale - complete with a balaclava and a pair of black gloves. I glanced back at what I had just seen and pulled my friend's sleeve to have her look at it. We then glanced at each other, chuckled, and carried on walking.

That same morning, as we wandered about the market, a homeless-looking man stopped us and began dangling a tiny puppy in front of our noses. Naive as we were, we started stroking the puppy's head in awe and the man suddenly thrust the dog in my friend's arms before asking for 50 zloty for it. My friend shook her head and thrust the dog back into the man's hands, but then we both felt so bad for that poor puppy... Just before that happened, my friend had been telling me how her parents were planning to buy a dog, so I said: "why don't you buy this one, then?" She thought it made sense, after all, a dog is a dog, right?

That day, instead of buying some make-up, she ended up buying a puppy on that market... of course, as soon as she handed the money to the man and found herself with a puppy in her hands, she glanced at me and said blankly: "now what?"
We were supposed to return to school for the afternoon classes, but there we were with that puppy on our hands. I can no longer remember what we did next, but I do remember how angry her parents were when she brought that stray puppy back home. In the end, they dumped him on the doorstep of some neighbours and later bought a pedigree puppy.

Yeah... It seems that what looks good will always tend to prevail over what is actually good in general.

And today my thoughts are stuck. Maybe the icy winds managed to freeze my brains.

29/11/2010

I was supposed to get some lunch, but I decided to go out for a walk instead. In the end, I decided I might as well skip lunch altogether. Why? Because I can if I want to.

I went out in the bitter cold, the sky a snowless creamy white, and I walked all the way to the nearest shopping mall to have a look at whatever stationary items they had there. They had next to nothing except bloody Christmas cards everywhere. Glittering raindeers, snowmen and whatnot. Crowds of people were gathered mostly around those Christmas items and decorations, their trolleys filled with such junk they will only use once and then bury in some cupboard. And that junk is expensive, too! A stupid candle with the face of an old bearded man suddenly costs 10 times its real value - just because, guess what, it's for Christmas. Wait till the day after the celebration, and all that junk will cost half what it does today... I guess that says it all.

I'm in a somber mood - can you tell?

As I was walking I had all these thoughts dancing in my head, making me oblivious to everything that surrounds me. That leads to some problems at times, as I will forget to stop at a green light, for instance, and I've lost count how many times a car narrowly escaped hitting me in the process. Everytime that happens, my heart jumps in my chest just as I hear the loud, angry horn of the car, and I answer with the most scornful of glares back at the driver.

Anyway, as I was walking, an odd thought occurred to me: what if I was facing a lion right now at this very minute - what would I do? I told myself it was a very odd thought to have, and how the hell did it come to mind in the first place? I followed the thread of thoughts back to its source and realised my mind had been reflecting on people in the street first. I had been thinking about the time I had advised a friend to watch Appocalypto, and when I asked him what he thought of it, all he could say was 'it was so violent and bloody...'
That memory of the conversation led me to look around me at the people in smart suits everywhere coming out from the tube station in masses. I suddenly wished I would have replied that friend that at least the savages in that movie looked the part of what they actually were: cruel savages. At least you knew that when they didn't like you they just grabbed their axe and you would simply lose your head. End of story.

What has changed in the world? Only appearances. The same savages are everywhere, only their wicked ways are hidden under the cover of smart suits and expensive leather briefcases. They no longer use machetes to kill you on the spot, instead they kill you in the slowest way possible by poisoning your whole existence on Earth.

They no longer say 'me kill you, me stronger, you weakling, me going to eat you', they use complex prose and Shakespearian words instead. Remove such layers of appearances, and the base is exactly the same.

So as I was thinking about all this, the thought 'what if I was facing a lion right now at this very minute - what would I do?' occurred to me.

Well, if I was facing a lion right now at this very minute, I would hide at once from it because I know full well that I'm weaker than the lion and it would only make sense for it to jump me to eat me if I were to linger about. That's what I replied to myself, anyway. I would hide away from its grip and then outsmart him with my wits and brains. After all, brains and wits were always mankind's main 'weapon' of survival in nature.

28/11/2010

Nothing to say.

27/11/2010

It's so cold outside... I decided to retreat under a mountain of blankets with a warm cup of coffee.

As I ventured into the living room earlier, I saw that the family was watching a movie I watched in the cinema a couple of years ago or so. It was a very loose biopic they made of Jane Austen (Becoming Jane) and I remember that when I heard they had made a movie of her life I was rather surprised because nothing much happened in her life - because she spent it writing stories. I always liked to think that her novel Pride and Prejudice was like a mirror version of her life, where she had the power to change fates and give her characters the happy endings she knew she would never get for herself in her reality. The movie actually hints at that at some point. After all, Elizabeth rejects the only suitor she had 'any hopes' of getting due to her poor circumstances and lower standing in society because she could never marry without love. Jane Austen had gone through the same exact thing, choosing to remain alone rather than marry out of convenance. Whereas Elizabeth does get her prince in the end, it isn't so for the writer.

See, she too had a love, but her poorer status and circumstances meant that he had to marry someone else and they could never be together. She carried on writing, and one day, many years later, they meet again by chance as she has become a renowned writer. The man’s young daughter comes up to her full of admiration, and her name is Jane, too. She looks at that young girl and her lost love, and though there is a flash of old pain (the one of what could have been, but never was) they smile at each other and simply part again. He walks away with the family Fate dictated he should spend his life with, and she walks the opposite way, alone but never lonely, for she had that richness within made up of worlds that always defied reality.

It's true that none of us can have it all. That always kind of frustrated me. I always hated the fact that we had to make choices in life, mainly because making choices involves turning your back on other possibilities with often no idea as to how things could be like if we made a different choice. The more passionate and dramatic side of me always liked to think that no matter what choices I would be forced to make, I would know for sure what I could never compromise on, and the very things I could never compromise on include Love and pursuing true meaning of absolutely everything in this world, even if it means spending my life in retreat from the distractions of actually 'living' it. What I mean here is that you can't observe things in enough depth when you're completely caught up in the daily living of life. You need to take that step back and stand at a distance of all that is happening so you can observe and reflect on what it is you see. It means that sometimes being an observer of this world involves sacrificing your own proper living within reality. When would you find the time to ponder in depth if you were constantly distracted by matters of reality?

In a way, me slowly getting to accept these facts fits with the way my path seems to have shaped itself over time. The element of isolation and the impression of standing on the verge of the world rather than being immersed in it were always there, or they have been for a very long time. In fact, I see the moments when I'm not isolated (or just feeling isolated) as exceptions, and life's way of telling me: "Alright Aliska, though you need to stand on the verge of the world because your path is to understand many things in depth, here are a few things you do need to go through in reality as they are necessary lessons or glimpses for the growth of your understanding."

I just wish sometimes some of these lessons didn't have to be so painful... but then again, if they weren't they would defeat their own purpose, which would be to allow the person to expend from such lessons. Reaching Truth, even just from within, and past all illusions.

So today was graduation day… I went there with the little family. I’m actually glad I went… But I feel exausted from all that social effort. I don't know about you, but being social drains me. I can feel the energy being sucked out of my body and brain every time I have to spend too long in the company of people, especially crowds of them.

The place in which they held the ceremony was sumptuous, mind you. And it also felt like the end of an era, I suppose. Oh, and walking up and down those ancient corridors from bygone times wearing these gowns and that black cap kind of felt like we were wandering around Hogwards.

I had to get there early as I forgot to book a gown - again. I forgot the first time around, too… I bumped into T in front of the building and she gave me a lovely contrived smile, eyeing me up and down swiftly first. That girl was part of a group of people who I guess used to be my friends back in second year.

After that, I waved at a few people, but no one really came to me and I wasn’t able to find S, which is a shame. S was one of very few people I could actually stand in my year mainly because, just like me, she was quiet and liked to keep to herself.

Then I bumped into L, and she seemed genuinely happy to see me. She’d been so scared to end up all on her own with no one to talk to that she called me last night to make sure we'd meet in front of the building. I said 'yeah, sure. Please stop stressing.' She giggled and asked me if I was nervous. I said 'No. It's just a ceremony where we'll be wearing weird clothes while our parents take way too many pictures.' Then I added: 'I hope it snows tomorrow, that would actually make it interesting.' She said she hoped it wouldn't snow and that got her worrying about what would happen if it did snow and her train was delayed.

We met several times as we all wandered about in our Harry Potter gowns in the ancient parts of that building… I have to say this graduation was way better than the law one, and I think I’ll remember far more of it. Though it was pompous and full of cheesy speeches from the dean and other bizzarly dressed professors, I could just gaze around me at the ancient statues and chandeliers hanging down from the high domed ceiling. It was good that the speeches happen to be so long and boring, too, for it gave me time to try and decypher the latin inscriptions carved on the old stones.

I also got to see a good tutor of mine. She told me that the student magazine on which I worked last year is no more… apparently the new Vice Chancellor doesn’t like the idea of students interviewing staff…and they didn't like it when people such as myself went out of their ways to ditch the dirt on that university.... talk about control and always more control. She told me she wasn’t going to fight it… what’s the point, she sighed. I guess our lot was lucky enough to escape right before the net of complete control finally closed in on that university. We got away with ditching quite a lot of dirt going on inside that place.... but that was only because the previous Vice Chancellor didn't mind it. Interestingly, he was sacked pretty quickly. Well, officially he wasn't 'sacked' - they offered him half a million to go quietly.

And now... unless you're going to write about how wonderful the system is, you'll have no chance in the world to see your work published through that university. Would I really be going too far by assuming that the same thing applies as far as all the mainstream media is concerned?...

Having said that, I'll be keeping an eye out on Wikileaks set to release highly confidential government data. I just hope it's more than petty name-calling between chiefs of states.

22/11/2010

Run away, run, again and forever!

I remember a clutter of hazy thoughts I had as a child, but some striking memories never left me, and they happen to be the many times I plotted to run away.
The very odd thing about such occurrences in my childhood is that these ideas came at a time when everything was well, and at a time when I was very young.

Many a time, my mother would tell me off for something I had done, and she would use words that may not have been so harsh, but they hurt me. They hurt me because I was aware the words used were too strong compared to what the misdeed deserved. I would run to my room and cry my eyes out, then draw from the deep sorrow to make myself feel detached from everything. As soon as I reached that state of complete emotional detachment, I would drag the massive old suitcase buried in the wardrobe and I would place in it all my favorite toys and perhaps a few clothes for good measure. I would sneak into the kitchen and grab a pack of biscuits (food for the road, you see) and place it inside the suitcase that I would then drag along with me all the way to the front door. I would stop there for a moment, glance around me and say in a voice loud enough for my mother to hear: "Good bye mother, I'm leaving."
She would come into the corridor and stare at me blankly before shaking her head in disbelief.

The first time I did this, she took the time to reason with me. She asked me to think about where exactly I was thinking to go. I couldn't answer. I just wanted to leave and that was as far as my planning went. I was no more than 6 years old. Seeing that I refused to discuss it further, she would simply sigh and say: "Well then, go." And so I would, but the funny thing was that each time this would happen, I would leave a little further from the house so that in effect, the very first time I took a suitcase and decided to 'leave', I made it only as far as the front door.

The time after that, I made it all the way to the elevator.

The time after that, I made it all the way to the ground floor hallway.

Then one day I made it all the way into the street, where I stared around me, at the traffic and endless crowds of people and... I realised I had no idea where to go next. That's when I stopped trying to 'run away' from home.

And that's when I began to plot my escape outside of home.

I remember trying to run away from school, once. I was still around 6 years of age and I had one best friend at the time. I remember her quite strikingly because although we became 'best' friends, I remember liking the fact that she listened to me and was easy to influence. I had this thing back then that made me very bossy and I tended to impose my ways on others because I just felt my ways were better than all others. Before lunch time, as we were playing in the playground, I told her that we should run away. School was a prison and we needed to escape into some great adventure, and since life was so boring, we had to make the adventure happen: therefore we had to escape the school walls and discover the world. She agreed with my idea at once, and I began to plan our escape.

We went into the girls bathroom and I noticed the windows that could be reached by climbing on the toilet seat. I turned to my friend and told her that was our escape. Of course we would have to be very mindfull of the teachers lurking in the playground, and I thought the best time to make a run for it would be if we finished lunch quickly while the number of adults was at its lowest outside. Although I can no longer remember the detail of my thinking, I had gone through all the main points that would ensure the success of our escape... but we got caught at the last minute for a stupid error that involved me dumping the contents of my plate in one kid's tray so as to finish my lunch 'earlier' (as the adults would never let you leave the table unless you had eaten a certain set amount of food). I guess that kid got stuck at the table with too much food to finish (I had also dumped my best friend's food in his plate) and some adult must have asked him how come he had so much in his tray... and he must have said it was me. So that time we got caught and I vaguely remember being asked why I had dumped all the food in that boy's tray.
I think I shrugged and said I'd asked him if he wanted some more and he'd said yes.

The other time I plotted my escape, I was around 9 years old. I was playing outside the house with a school friend who also lived nearby. We were sitting on top of a low brickwall, swinging our legs and watching the older kids play football in the middle of the square. I remember getting that sudden wave of mental suffocation that comes and goes... just like a wave. I glanced up at the sky and asked my friend if she also felt like a prisoner. She glanced at me and nodded, but I don't think she had a clue what I was on about. To be fair, I had no idea myself why I was feeling that way, either. I asked her if she'd ever dreamed of running away into the unknown, just to at least see how the world worked else where. Maybe life was more interesting and 'adventurous', even 'magical' some place else and we just needed to find that place ourselves.

She said she had sometimes imagined that she was running away. She had a bad family and her father would often be the kind to beat up his kids. I asked her why she had never actually tried and she told me that every time she couldn't go through with it because 'where would she go?'
I tried to convince her that we should give it a go - run away together into the wide world. At first she seemed very excited by the idea and we began to plan how we would manage to sneak out of our homes... but soon she was heaving a deep sigh and finally said: "We can't do it... We're too small, and we wouldn't know where to go. And I'd miss my family."

"But we can try," I retorded (or something close to that). "And we'd have each other."

"Well, you try, but I'm not doing it," was her final answer before jumping to her feet to join the group of older kids playing football.

I remained sitting on that brickwall, gazing pensively around me. As much as I felt the urge to escape into the unknown, I suddenly got that realisation that I couldn't just do it on my own. Alone in the wide world, trying to find that perfect place just wasn't the same as being with another person that experienced it with you.

And that was the last time I planned to run away.

21/11/2010

I hate everyone.

(That's a lie. I Like my true Self.)

I hate the whole world.

(That's a lie. I find nature and unspoilt landscapes soothing.)

I hate Pain.

(That's a lie. I believe the right amount of Pain is required for a human being to grow.)

I hate lies.

(That's not a lie, but hey guess what, everybody lies.)

I hate life.

(That's a lie. If I really hated it, i wouldn't be here writing so much about it.)

There is man, there is woman,

There is spring, there is winter,

There is light, there is darkness,

There is evil, and there is good.

Everything in this world seems to rest on a balance of perfect opposites. I would go so far as to venture that nothing can actually exist without its complete opposite existing as well.

So what does that tell us? I'll tell you what it shows us, shall I? It means that striving for one extreme or another in bound to end in defeat because for one extreme to exist, the exact opposite of it must necessarily exist to allow for both's existence. That's part of the Balance of everything that exists.

The problem was never about ridding the world of evil, or anything at all for that matter. All that occurs, all that can be seen or experienced, belongs to a spectrum or other made up of at least two core extremes.

As such, those who act 'badly' (corrupted, perverted, heartless, cruel, you name it) are but mere vectors that slide too close to one extremity of the Good-Bad spectrum - whose definition, by the way, depends mostly on an individual, a group, or a society's perspective at a certain time and place, so that what they deem good or bad today may well be different tomorrow.

The problem was always about the lack of striking a balance between all core extremes. Strike the perfect balance and harmony can develop. Slide too far off one extreme, and chaos is the norm.

I suppose the way nature works provides the best observing ground for this line of thoughts. By observing what we call the 'blind' justice of nature, we can note the fine balance that exists, involving just the right amount of every extreme. But I should really say 'the perfect amount of middleground between each extreme that exists'. Because nature is essencially perfectly wired to strike a perfect balance between opposites, it isn't too surprising to see how it managed to ensure a constant cycle of life like clockwork for so long.

Humans have been observing this clockwork orchestra displaying a mastery of the notion of perfect balance for thousands of years. Most of them are still stuck wasting their braincells on 'how to rid the world' of such things as poverty, hunger, pain, unfairness, war... whatever.

If you are one of those striving to get rid of whatever extreme that exists, or even whatever occurrence that seems so 'unfair' to you, then you have still much to reflect on. You are simply unable to see past your own subjectivity, and therefore failing to see truly in the greatest depth.

From time to time you can hear seagulls cry in the early morning, and I catch myself wondering, how far is the sea.


I woke up at the crack of dawn today, and way before my alarm clock was set up to wake me. My eyes flung open as though I'd been stirred abruptly, and I laid in bed with one arm over my face to check if I could fall asleep again for a few moments. Then the thought occurred to me that if I did drift to sleep again, I may end up oversleeping, and that thought got me up on my feet.

I have a tendency to procrestinate a lot. I do. I like to think things over and imagine them time and time again in all their possibilities and outcomes, from the most realistic down to the extremely far-fetched. If I'm meant to write something like a letter, for instance, I may spend days, if not weeks, imagining what I would write, imagining every word, weighing them in different combinations and appreciating their possible effects... Then one day I sit down and actually do what I'm supposed to do, and the best version becomes the one that stood out in my mind, the one I remember more strikingly so that it will simply flow out of me without much effort at all. All other options are phased out simply because my mind didn't find them worth remembering, perhaps. Or they proved to imperfect. Or something of the sort.

Other times I get caught up in the process of imagining all that may or may not be, all that may feel like or may not feel like, words that could be used or perhaps yet others instead... So much so and with such fervor that before I know it I have spent a long time dreaming a hypothesis away from concrete reality.

I was having a look at old things I used to write when I was younger. French words were dancing before my eyes and as I tried to translate them into English, I was horrified: it sounded horrid, nothing like the original flow, let alone rhythm and play of words. It's not that what I used to write was any good - far from it at times - it's just that I already used to write in a weird fashion even in my native language. I'd use refined words and then break the flow with a swear word or perhaps a 'loose' term, all the while never really following rules of poetry at all - only the rhythm in my own head. It worked in French at the time of writing them, but to dupplicate that in another language would require of me to slip right back into the exact state of mind I was in at the time so as to capture the full meaning I intended to convey, but this time in English.

I was listening to old French songs from the bygone times of my 'youth', and came across some old rap songs I used to listen to as a teen. One of them was inspired from Star Wars, except the meaning of the lyrics had little to do with the movies, but everything to do with a world embracing darkness, I suppose. It was called 'L'Empire du Cote Obscure', meaning 'The empire of the dark side' and a translation of the lyrics can be found here.

From there I came across another French rapper I used to listen to (with translation here), and I got to appreciate how he used to rap using quite refined words rather than your usual 'I kill you baby, come on, come on, come feel my pistol' whatever. With a few plays of words that are again quite hard to replicate in another language, but I guess that's the struggle translation always faces at times because each language will have certain turns or expressions rather unique to its own. A bit like jokes that are very funny in one language, but when you try to tell them to someone in another language, the other person fails to get it because they lack the deeper connection to the original words used and that made the whole thing funny in the first place.

How time flies... got to land back on Earth for now.

12/11/2010

"On ne renonce pas à sauver le navire dans la tempête parce qu'on ne saurait empêcher le vent de souffler. " Thomas More

I remember jotting down this quote on a loose page taken from one of my many notebooks when I was reading Utopia. I was perhaps 15 at the time, and I remember keeping that torn piece of paper with me, drawing pictures all around the quote while sitting in class. Then I lost it one day, but I'm pretty sure it has remained safely tucked in between the pages of one of the many books resting on my bookshelf. The English equivalent of that quote goes something like: "“You must not abandon the ship in a storm because you cannot control the winds..." but I always find the French version far more melodious and meaningful, for some unfathomable reason.

And after the storm, always comes the calm.

There was a storm in my head last night... It tends to occur when I suddenly lose focus, and therefore perspective. Something within me snaps and suddenly a deluge of Great Sorrow overwhelms my whole being. But then, I always learn from such occurrences... for even as the storm destroys many things in its wake, always it will leave behind enough water for life to be reborn greener, more beautiful and stronger.

The same notion keeps dancing in my head: patience. I have not yet mastered that art. And quiet abandon... Until I do, I won't be able to rid myself from the storms, which should really be replaced with a simple steady flow.

Often when I think about all the things that occur in my existence, I see all that occurs as lessons to be drawn so that I can develop my self futher. Some lessons are definitely harder to face than others, but refusing to face them would be defeating the purpose of being alive and human in the first place.

In that sense, I am like a piece of clay Life slowly helps to give it a perfected shape. Fighting against that process ends up living bumps and difformities of all sorts on the piece of clay being shaped throughout the years... Doesn't that explain to an extent why so many of us end up failing to become what we ought to have become if only we had strived to better ourselves truly?

It's too easy to look at the world and draw a list of all its flaws... Everyone is quite capable of doing it, and why is that? That's because it's easier to focus on the wrongs and weaknesses of others rather than our own. At the same time, making that terrible mistake not only blinds us from developing our self, it also ensures that we nurture all the wrong emotions within, such a deep-rooted anger, resentment, scorn and ultimately Hatred and Bitterness.

I need to allow the 'peace' within I can feel I always possessed from the start to flow unrestrained, because I know it can never lead me down the wrong path... But sometimes the noise of this world gets to me and prevents me from doing just that. I guess it means I need to develop a better way of being in the world, but not of it. And I already know that Time itself is the best ally of all.

I have also been listening to this today, and I have to say that particular passage has a wonderfully soothing, dream-like effect on me.

I keep wondering... Is there a way to actually know for sure that what people tell you is true? Is there any way at all to know that people actually mean what they say?
From my own observations, it seems that most people will only express what they feel or think will get them approved, or accepted, by a majority. That is not truth. That is not even close to sincerity or honest mistake. It all belongs to the same category: lies.

Then there is the issue of people only telling you what they think you want to hear. We all work in pretty much the same basic way; we meet others, get a 'feel' of their person in some ways, and a whole load of assumptions follows within the mind about the person we're interacting with. More often than not, we are not even aware of the process of adaptation that goes on between one self and another. But it occurs every single time. We adapt to others in the same way as we learn to co-ordinate the items of clothing we're going to wear on a given day. That means some people are better than others. Some will know from the word go that a red shirt and yellow pants don't mix well together; on the other hand, a red shirt and black pants will do the trick.

We constantly adapt to one another, editing and sub-editing the way we are, the way we think, what we believe and what we are in truth according to others, and situations, and environments... Then we have some thinkers out there - such as myself - wondering about Truth... Haha. In a world that functions solely on appearances and deceit, I wonder what the point is to have the ability to think deeply in the end.

What the FUCK is the point of having the ability to THINK at all?

Wouldn't it make more sense to be like my cat at the end of the day? At least we'd be in sync with nature, right? We'd have our purpose all figured out for us from the start, and what's even better, we wouldn't even have the capacity to WONDER about it.

I am going to keep searching till I bleed from every single orifice that exists in my body, and when I'm done searching, and when I've found all the answers... I shall burn everything.

I'll burn everything to a pulp and myself with it.

11/11/2010

It's a stormy weather out there. I went out for a while this afternoon, and stepped out of the house right when it started raining hard again. I had an umbrella with me, but the wind was fierce and... the word 'angry' came to mind. I smiled to myself as the wind tried to tear my umbrella to pieces in scornful, agitated blows... Yes, the wind was angry today. Instead of blowing one way or the other, it was blowing in every direction at once, ensuring that by the time I got back home I was drenched in water from head to toe.

Listening to this music makes me imagine that I'm dancing in the midst of an ancient ball, in one of those huge dresses with frills everywhere and locks of long hair neatly arranged on top of my head to cascade down my back. The ballroom is full of beautifully dressed people wearing Venice masks and all of us are moving perfectly in rythm with the music coming from a large orchestra at the far end of walls painted crimson and gold.

I really do have too much imagination... but if it wasn't for it I think I would have lost the will to even merely exist a long time ago.

On a more 'reality-bound' note, I have actually spent much time stepping up my game in search of that all elusive job that will at least allow me to carry on developping my journalistic skills. I know that the right job will come along when the time comes for it to come, and so long as I keep my eyes open, I don't think I'll miss the boat this time.

Then... I was looking at old landscape photographs I used to take when I was younger. Many of them looked like this:


This sort of pictures I would take every year as I was sent away for the summer holidays and every time my mother looked at them upon my return she would shake her head in disappointment because most of the pictures depicted mostly landscapes rather than people or myself.

"What's the point in taking such pictures?" She would ask me.
"Just because... It was so beautiful, mum," I would explain.
"But I can't see you in them... It's just trees, lakes and flowers... The point of taking pictures while you're away is so you can show me what you've been doing," she would insist.
"But you know me already, mum," I'd carry on. "I wanted to share with you how beautiful the place was because you weren't there to see it, but I wish you could have seen it with your own eyes..."

Mother would then sigh and ruffle my hair.

"Well, next time take more pictures of people rather than trees."

Take pictures of people? Let's just say I never took that advice too seriously.

10/11/2010

I went out in the freezing cold this morning, but the sky was a pure diluted blue and the sun was shining - a lovely glimpse of the winter days ahead.

Since I didn't have time to have any breakfast, I ended up buying freshly squeezed orange juice, a warm bread stick (also known as baguette in the land I originally come from) and some chocolate spread on the way back home. Then I sat in the kitchen and had the most delicious of breakfasts instead of lunch, followed by a much needed cup of coffee.

Then I switched on my computer and logged into Facebook. Some people have actually been counting the days left until Christmas... Others are wondering about their list of gifts and already worrying about it. The ones who weren't talking about Christmas were talking about how they are waiting for a train, or a bus, or how 'great last night was'. The only interesting post came from one guy who works for a small publication in London and he had posted a link to a story about the Magdalenes. For those who don't know what Magdalenes refer to, here is more in-depth information about it.

Though these places have now been closed, it's disturbing to think that they were still in existence in the 1990s.

We seem to often take for granted that our society is so evolved and 'broad-minded'... The reality is that most people in the detail are plagued with all sorts of personal prejudices. Those prejudices are like a hidden cancer at the heart of society itself because people don't dare speak up their true mind, they only express the thoughts they know will be validated by the majority. So in the end, if everyone keeps hiding their true thoughts on most things, how are we ever supposed to address our differences in order to finally get to a deep understanding of one another? WE CAN'T.

Each person who chooses to withdraw their true thoughts to only express what they know will be accepted by the majority is in fact ensuring that every single society we live in will be plagued with chaos and a complete lack of true understanding on anything whatsoever. Furthermore, by hidding one's true thoughts, it becomes tantamount to ensuring the person will never really learn anything or expend their mind... because they'll never get to confront their possibly flawed reasoning.

09/11/2010

What a cold and windy day in london... The Earth is wet with sorrows that bear no known language to Man.

Yesterday I went to the library and chose a few CDs to listen to in the peace and quiet of my bedroom... and I came across the one music I'd been searching for since I was around 12 - but I could never remember what it was called, or who the composer was, for that matter. I could only remember the enchanting melody itself, forever engraved in my mind. It was from Rimsky-Korsakov, and it's called Sheherazade. My aunt had bought me the CD as a Christmas present because I think she had no idea what to get me, and she probably picked that music at random.

Then that CD broke by accident, and I forgot what it was called because I simply have a hard time paying attention to names and such details. Soon after listening to such music, I developped a taste for soundtracks and every time I would watch a movie whose music would get to me, I would buy its soundtrack. For someone who tends to feel as much as I do, it isn't really surprising that I should appreciate these kinds of melodies, for they are designed to capture emotions on screen. And I'm a catcher of emotions, for better and for worse.

I never really liked superheroes... I prefere the anti-hero type. The shadow in the corner, the misunderstood ghost that started off as good but lost himself somewhere down the line so deep that in the end nothing much of the goodness remains... but if one looks hard enough, they can see that the goodness is still there, buried deep within.

In the story I wrote, about that little girl who escapes into another world - my version of Utopia, I guess -, the bad guys are given a voice almost just as strong as the 'good' guys. That's because I don't believe in clear-cut notions of Good and Evil. Who am I to decide who is bad, and who is good? Why don't you make up your own mind yourself based on the facts and circumstances?

My favorite moment of the story occurs when the girl is captured by the bad guys. As she faces the 'evil' Lord, it becomes clear that he is a highly intelligent man with much depth and feelings... Another allegory emerges, that of knowledge and how knowing in itself means nothing because the key always was this: what does one do with the knowledge they gain?
The man knew so much... but this knowledge was defeated the moment he failed to seek what he was meant to do with it.

The girl would have lost herself at that moment... she would have slipped away and lost her true self, if it were not for a fateful meeting with one boy who never said much, but when he did speak, he gave her the key to always preserve the I within.

I find myself unable to complete this story, though. First of all, it's LONG. Second of all, I could only get to write it in bursts of inspiration throughout the past 3 years. And third of all, I am in no rush to finish it because if it's meant to be completed, then it will complete itself, somehow. But my, I do love my characters... I fell in love with them whilst working on a second draft, actually. Surprisingly enough, I began to feel more for some of the secondary characters, and when this happened, I realised it was my mind's way of telling me I had neglected their storyline within the story itself.

Anyway... I once read this famous story called The Alchemist by Coelho. It was about a young boy who sets off on a journey to find his 'happiness' I suppose, or his fullfillment, or dream. He seeks a treasure he is destined to find, but has to get past many obstacles along a very long journey that takes him to many different places all the while following signs. One striking moment in the story is when he meets with an old man who owns a teashop, or something of the sort (I can't really remember the detail that much). As the boy is by then pennyless, he asks for a job there and the old man agrees after some persuasion. They start talking about dreams in life, and the old man tells him he always dreamed of visiting the Mecca but never got around to doing it. When the boy gives him ideas to expend his shop, the old man dismisses them because he is already 'happy with what he has'. The point here was to show that many people stop before reaching the height of their dreams - they stop mid-way before they can reach their true fulfilment, meaning that they become comfortable with second-best or better than nothing, and soon enough they have given up on their most inner dreams.

The boy doesn't give up, though... He carries on with his journey, and even when he finally meets the girl of his dreams, he leaves her behind because he still needs to first find his treasure - his fulfilment, or most inner dream - with the promise that he will come back for her once his quest is over. The story ends exactly where it begun... When the boy finally finds the treasure, it turns out it was always where he had first been - except that to find or see it, he had first needed to go through all these obstacles in life. Once he has fulfilled himself, everything else, all the secondary dreams, fall into place, and he gets everything, including his love.